


The Devil’s in the Details

by InnerSpectrum



Series: February 2021 Johnlock Prompt Challenge [12]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, February 2021 Johnlock Prompt Challenge, Parentlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29499426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum
Summary: Rosie is just too smart for her own good, sometimes...
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: February 2021 Johnlock Prompt Challenge [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138172
Comments: 6
Kudos: 80
Collections: February 2021 Johnlock prompt challenge from ohlooktheresabee





	The Devil’s in the Details

**Author's Note:**

> For the February 2021 Johnlock Prompt Challenge from ohlooktheresabee. Prompt: Salt

“The Germans believed that whoever spills salt arouses enmity, because it is thought to be the act of the devil. The French throw a little spilled salt behind them in order to hit the devil in the eye, to temporarily prevent further mischief and the Americans…” Sherlock was informing Rosie with stories and traditions about salt when his phone vibrated. He looked at the caller ID, “Sorry Rosie, I have to take this, I’ll be right back.”

“It’s Uncle Mycroft, isn’t it?” the adorable little blond with eyes so much like her father’s smiled up at him.

“How did you know?”

“Because you always make a funny face when he calls.” She answered.

It was made all the worse as he simultaneously heard a smug voice in his ear, “Because you likely make a funny face whenever I call.”

“You’re getting too smart for your own good, Watson,” he tousled her curls as he walked away.

“You are the devil!” Sherlock returned to the kitchen minutes later, clearly annoyed as he rang out on his phone. “Mycroft called in one of his favors. Apparently, we’re taking our parents to musical theatre tomorrow and having dinner afterward. My brother is the devil!”

“I told you, you were going to lose that battle.” an amused John plated dinner, “Mycroft was not letting you get away with making him suffer alone through a matinee again.”

“Oh, and by the way that _we’re_ part also includes you and Watson. Mummy wants to see her granddaughter.” Sherlock added.

“Fine by me. Unlike you, Rosie adores musicals, and I adore being around your parents.” John grinned as he placed the dinner plates down on the table. “Here you go, Sweetie.”

“Thanks Papa.”

“You’re welcome darling. Sherlock? Come eat.”

“I’m not hungry…” Sherlock started to grouse out of sheer obstinance until John raised a brow, “Fine! Where were we Watson? Oh yes, the Americans would...”

~~~~~~ 

While the musical portion of the day was enjoyed by his parents, John and Watson, human dressed as felines cavorting around a stage was as excruciating to Sherlock had as expected. He knew a good portion of John’s enjoyment was watching him semi-suffer. Sherlock conceded that he himself had enjoyed watching John try hard, and sometimes fail, to not burst out in laughter at his many snarky asides during the performance. Anything he did that brought a smile, even a chagrinned one, to his husband’s eyes made him happy. It was even worth the elbow from his father.

“Uncle Mycroft! Mr. Greg! Yay, you’re here!” A delighted Rosie waved at Greg Lestrade and Mycroft as they approached.

Mummy squealed in surprise at the sight of the brand-new engagement ring Greg wore, “Well! It is about time you two!”

“Congratulations! I’d say welcome to the family, but you’ve unofficially been a part of it for quite some time now!” Mr. Holmes welcomed Greg.

“As if I had not deduced it and told you earlier this afternoon!” Sherlock rolled his eyes, but all at the table knew he was happy for his brother by the rare beaming smile he did not hide.

“Behave you!” John chastised Sherlock, playfully, “Congrats to you both!”

“Ta everyone! You did say he’d have seats waiting…” Greg looked from his fiancé to the empty side-by-side chairs.

“And voila, so he has. You are predictable, Brother Mine…” a jubilant Mycroft actually winked at Sherlock, so happy, he cannot find it to be annoyed. He gestured to the other chair as he pulled out his own “Shall we?”

As they sat, Mycroft reached for Greg’s hand knocking over a shaker of salt between them. Greg immediately took a pinch and tossed it over his shoulder.

“Oh right!” Rosie jumped down from her seat and ran around to stand between the two men.

Greg was about to pick her up when she reached on the table, grabbed some of the spilled salt between her two fingers, tossed it over her left shoulder.

"No more mischief, you!" she pointed a finger at Mycroft and then dove under the table.

“Rosie!” John hissed in surprise at his daughter’s odd behavior.

“Child what are you doing?” her grandfather lifted the tablecloth as she crawled across their feet and came out on the other side.

"All done!" Rosie, oblivious to the adults' bemusement, proudly sat in her seat again with an assist from Mummy. “Thank you!”

“Sherlock!” Mummy, the first to figure it out, gave an exasperated laugh at her youngest.

Mycroft groaned, as he figured it out. "You were teaching her about salt customs.”

“That's what I was doing when you called yesterday. She worked out the details." Sherlock's shoulders shook as he sniggered, “I told you Watson was too smart for her own good, sometimes!”

“Oh God, the salt!” John dropped his head into his hands as he also made the connections. “You threw salt over your shoulder, Greg.”

“Huh?” Greg looked to his fiancé and then grinned as it came to him, “It was an American thing wasn’t it? Over the left shoulder and then pass under the table? But why would she...?"

"Ask your future brother-in-law..." John laughed as he, Mummy and Mycroft pointed at Sherlock as answer.

“What did I miss?” brow furrowed, Sherlock’s father asked confused.

Mycroft shook an amused head as he looked to his father.

“Apparently, your first born is the devil, Dad.”


End file.
